Chapter 18: Along the Great River

Nannakussi

Centumcellae is the largest city in Agus. It is located at the mouth of the Sisku-wihane (Susquehanna) River, where the river runs into the Chesepiooc (Chesapeake) Bay. It was two and a half days travel from where we last talked to lord Asmodeus. Leofgif kept an eagle eye on domina Nevianne, not that our lady needed it. Or, to be fair, her mother was keeping her eye on the young decurion, Quintus, who did need it. Everyone said he was a handsome devil, he first and loudest of all. I don’t think she really needed to watch him, because he was now convinced that our lord was actually a wizard, if not actually a demon, and that he might reappear at any moment and turn him into a noble and handsome muskrat or maybe a potato.

The rations the troops are given, especially while on patrol, are pretty boring. For the most part they have bacon, hardtack, and vinegary wine for two days; and bacon, bread, and decent wine the third. I kept busy and earned fare for the boats by selling fresh birds to the troops and at rest stops. These were mostly passenger pigeons, but also a couple turkeys and some wild chickens. The second day’s travel, I took Quintus and his batman hunting and he tipped me generously when we scored a boar. He got it honestly too. I flushed it and he took it with a leaf-bladed hunting spear. He was more than mere good looks, I decided.

Centumcellae was even bigger than the capital. There were dozens of craft in the harbor, mostly fishermen who went for the shad that swarmed in the local waters in the spring and summer, plus whatever other fish were in season, which were many. There were crowds at the markets along the piers, which were heavy with the odor of fish guts on the planking and smoking fillets on the grills. The mongers brayed their catches, from mullets to five pound bass and back to shad roe. Our Little Bird was in her element, sampling every kind of fish she was offered, enjoying all the noise and the pungent smells and the excitement.

We put up at a guest house near the forum, accommodated by witches and wizards, naturally. Grandmother Leofgif had appropriated Sabina as her maid, and our lady and Blæda stayed in that room with them. The Onondaga boy stayed with Winky and Chulëntët and me. I wasn’t particularly happy to have him with us, but I wanted to keep an eye on him. I had been raised not to trust the Iroquois people. The Susquehannocks had been the Lenape’s hereditary enemies in the days before the Empire, or so our wise men told us. We still weren’t fond of them, even though our tribes and clans were all equal before the Emperor. Of course, the other Iroquois didn’t like the Susquehannocks either. It gave us something in common.

Kogwahee and I accompanied our lady to look at the ships, pretending we were her bodyguards even though she was more powerful than either of us. It was a matter of family prestige, like when I had chased our lord off when I was gathering brush, or the way Winke cleaned and brushed our lady’s dress and did her hair. Chulëntët tagged along with us, and if anyone was bodyguard it was she.

Lady Nevianne asked our opinion freely as we looked at the boats. Sometimes she took it, sometimes not. One boat looked excellent. It was almost new, just the right size – maybe thirty feet, I’d guess-- but the captain and his crew looked like they were just out of, or on their way into jail, if not worse. “I need to book passage to Graviscae, if your craft can navigate the entire way,” our lady told him.

“Graviscae?” the rascal mused, combing his fluffy red beard with his fingers. “That’s a long way off, missy...”

“Your Lady,” I corrected.

He gave me an appraising look, then shrugged. “My Lady,” he corrected. Kogwahee was busy looking indignant, which raised him in my estimation. Family honor, of course. “For the four of you?”

“Plus my mother, her servant, my friend, and my servant’s wife.”

“Eight people? Maybe a solidus?”

“Come, Nannakussi, Kogwahee,” my lady sniffed. “We’ll buy our own boat and hire a crew.” Kogwahee and I kept our straight faces, since we would have perhaps enough money to eat that evening after laying out for an honest fare.

“A half solidus, then,” the captain suggested, not wanting us to walk away.

“Never mind,” quoth Lady Nevianne. “I’m sure Mother can find us a ship.”

“A quarter solidus then,” he sighed. “But you feed yourselves!”

“Perhaps fifty follis,” she sniffed, “and you provide meals and I don’t mean ship’s ration.”

I could see the pirate doing complicated – for him – mathematics in his head. At an eighth of a solidus, he might do just a little better than break even on the trip, assuming only a half cargo of grain to go up, to make room for us. His actual profit would be in the manufactured goods to come back, which would be the way he usually made his living. Passengers were a rarity and grain was cheap this time of year.

“You’ll pay up front?” he suggested.

“Certainly not!” she laughed haughtily. “My intended will pay when we arrive safe and sound, when we’re not left stranded at some Bird-villa in the sticks.”

“Half up front,” he demanded.

“Nannakussi, have you brought any money?” she asked.

“A few pentanummi, my lady,” I told her truthfully.

“Give him what you have. Your name, captain?”

“Marcus of Marcodava, my lady.”

I reached into my money pouch, to find that my few pentanummi had bred, and now amounted to twenty five follis. Being servant to a witch can sometimes be fun and profitable. I gave him the follis, plus two ratty old wampum belts, and eight interesting-looking shells I had kept from Assateague.

Shortly after two bells that very same day, we were pulling away from the shore, a little cramped, but comfortable enough. Lady Nevianne and her mother took a nap in the space under the foredeck, out of the sun. Kogwahee and I dropped lines into the water, baited with weevils from the grain bins, and caught crappies for our dinner. Lady Blæda, Winke and Sabina watched us and chatted.

My daughter turned herself into Mike, scaring the wits out of captain and crew as she rolled around the deck. Somehow she made herself lighter than air and started to float away. Rather than lose her, Winke tied the end of fifty feet of light line to our child’s ankle and she bobbled above us in the breeze with a nice view of the countryside for miles around.

Asmodeus

Sitting in a tree and grooming my feathers, I watched the bears patrolling the approaches to the wizard’s castle. It occurred to me after awhile (remember, I was currently a bird brain) that in The Wizard of Oz the Wicked Witch’s castle guards had been called “Winkies.” They hadn’t mentioned that in the movie, but it was in the book. I didn’t think Palégos’ winkies were nearly as cute as our Winky. They looked underfed, even emaciated.

I wanted to talk to one of those sad-looking Winky Bears, always assuming they could talk. Kogwahee had had the same monkey face, so it was a good bet they “bears” were changelings as well. The problem was that they mostly kept each other in sight. I say “mostly” because the longer I watched the more obvious it became that they liked privacy to do what bears do in the woods.